Drabbles and ficlets
by honeynoir
Summary: A collection. New: the ficlet 'Old Bones', in which Amy and the Doctor visit a furniture shop.
1. less, K, Amy and Eleven

**Title**: -less

**Rating**: K+

**Characters**: Amy, Eleven

**Wordcount**: 157

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Doctor Who_.

**A/N**: Spoilers for the beginning of _The Beast Below_.

**Summary**: You're Amy Pond.

* * *

><p>You're Amy Pond and you're floating in space, anchored by five fingers and nothing more.<p>

You have no fear whatsoever that the Doctor will let go of you, and you don't think your fearlessness is odd. You're not afraid of anything when you're with the Doctor, and you're certainly not afraid of _him_.

You're weightless and worriless. Heedless. Everything that has ever gone wrong in your life is null and void now, erased by this moment.

Your heart swells and you're suddenly sentimental and you hope you'll someday be able to repay the Doctor this.

(You're already doing so, though you cannot possibly know that. Your giggles and your fanned-out hair and the awe you're broadcasting on every channel are not lost on the Doctor. He's happy when you're happy. He is new again and he is painless and restless and careless and he is very old and quite young and very much alive and loving it.)


	2. A Welcome Interruption, K, AmyRory, 11

**Title**: A Welcome Interruption  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+

**Characters/Pairings**: Amy, Rory, Eleven  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 259  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Amy, Rory, an interruption.

* * *

><p>Amy and Rory stood side by side, leaning on a sturdy railing and looking out over the remarkable oddity that was the inside of the TARDIS. Their hands rested very closely together, but neither of them bridged the last few millimetres.<p>

The first time they'd been on an actual date Amy had been nervous despite herself. She felt the same way now, just standing there while Rory took in all that alien beauty. He expected her to say something, she'd gleaned as much. But what could she say? What _couldn't_ she say?

A terrible but brief clatter cut through the silence, and the Doctor popped up from a hatch in the floor. Rory startled and his hand closed reflexively on Amy's arm – but as soon as he'd seen the cause of the commotion, he removed it.

"Right! I need four hands, two pairs of hands," said the Doctor. He wore ridiculously chunky safety goggles, and held a live welding torch in one hand and the sonic screwdriver in the other. "In short, I need you both."

Amy was so relieved at the interruption that she let her tension out in a nervous giggle; she quickly pointed at the Doctor's goggles to hide her real reason for laughing (and they _were _actually funny in and of themselves).

Withdrawing her finger after an appropriate bout of giggling, she glanced at Rory. There was something disappointed lingering about his tense jaw, but then he met her gaze and practically fled down the stairs, where the Doctor waved the torch enthusiastically in greeting.


	3. Oh, K, ElevenAmy

**Title**: Oh  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+

**Pairing**: Eleven/Amy  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 150  
><strong>Summary<strong>: The Doctor leaves.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Doctor Who_.

* * *

><p>"It's not goodbye," he says, and then, softly, "Amy?"<p>

She can't answer, simply can't. The silence stretches and weaves (hurts her ears) and the air is pressed out of her lungs.

She doesn't want to go home yet. She waited so long. Shouldn't this be her decision? She knows it isn't, of course, but bitterness feels like a balm.

Her throat burns. Her eyes burn.

He cradles her shoulders and kisses her forehead. His hands are cold through the fabric of her shirt and his lips are cold on her skin and her heart is cold in her chest.

She still can't speak.

He turns away and leaves her.

The TARDIS dematerialises soundlessly. Perhaps she's actually gone deaf; perhaps he's remembered to loosen the brakes.

A lick of wind caresses her face, passes through her hair.

It's gone. He's gone. He left.

And Amy, life, everything, is _oh_ so still.


	4. Break, K, AmyRory

**Title**: Break  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+  
><strong>Characters<strong>: Amy, Rory  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 115  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Doctor Who_.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Your Raggedy Doctor was perfect.

* * *

><p>Your Raggedy Doctor was perfect. Funny. Brave. Impertinent. Free. Unbreakable.<p>

And he disappeared. He left you.

So you tried to recreate him. You used the only one who was willing to help you.

The problem was… Rory broke.

He scraped his knees and split his lip.

He fussed about spitting out food.

He didn't want to ruin clothes.

He got scared.

He cried.

He had to go home every night.

You couldn't pretend when he didn't play along. He broke your illusions. You yelled and sulked. For shame. But you were a child and he was a child. You were Amelia and he was _Rory_ – and that was the problem.

But he always came back.


	5. An Unwelcome Interruption, K, Amy, 11

**Title**: An Unwelcome Interruption  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+

**Characters**: Amy, Eleven  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 375  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Amy, the Doctor, and an insect.

* * *

><p>Amy followed the Doctor's example and dangled her legs. The great fallen trunk they sat on creaked and protested a little under their combined weight, but it didn't yield. The forest was a truly beautiful place, serene and yet decidedly alien. Sunlight filtered through foliages, wind rustled leaves, something smelled like chocolate. A miniscule insect of some kind wandered out from under a shrivelled leaf and grubbed about beneath their swaying feet, completely at peace.<p>

Amy couldn't imagine a more perfect place to tell him. "Doctor," she said, tensely, "There's something-"

He reached out and plucked a petal from the flower he had eased into her hair earlier.

"Something…?" he prompted, while he looked down and carefully let go of the petal at just the right moment. It floated serenely downwards and landed right in front of the little bug, deep blue against its bright pink.

"Something I have to tell you."

He turned his undivided attention to her. And waited, quietly, reading her face with restless eyes.

Amy suddenly couldn't find the words. Her mouth went dry, and his silence made her heart constrict. She had to do it now, just had to. She opened her mouth –

and a brutally loud bleating tore through the silence and the moment and her concentration and every word she'd ever known flew out of her head and she very nearly jumped out of her skin. She blindly grabbed at the Doctor just to keep herself from falling off the trunk. It was as if an enraged sheep roared in her ear.

The sound died out as quickly as it had come, leaving a faint ringing in Amy's ears. When she had control over her breathing again, she glanced at the Doctor. He looked about as dazed as she felt. She let go of the fistfuls of tweed she'd grabbed, and he pulled back the arm he'd thrown around her.

"What was that?" she asked, quite collectedly, considering.

The Doctor pointed to the insect, now happily feasting on the petal. "I believe it thanked us for the meal."

Their eyes met.

The Doctor guffawed, slapping both his knees and hers. Amy glanced at the insect and dissolved into laughter, too, because really, what else was there to do?


	6. Six paragraphs concerning Rory, K

**Title**: Six paragraphs concerning Rory Williams

**Rating**: K+

**Characters**: Amy, Rory, Eleven

**Wordcount**: 325  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Doctor Who_.

* * *

><p>i. Rory is a good person, always has been. He didn't complain when Amelia wanted to spend every break and weekend and holiday pretending to travel in time. He didn't when he came with her to the hospital (psychiatrist #1) and she decided a ladies' room stall would make a perfect time machine box. (Not even when he had to fling open the stall door and yell "Geronimo".) He didn't even protest when they were caught and her aunt yelled at him for encouraging the fantasy Amelia was there to forget.<p>

ii. He never laughed at her either – not once during that first year, when she flinched every time "zero" anything was mentioned.

iii. The day Amelia realised she couldn't keep playing time machine anymore, she started to push him away (sometimes physically – once she sprained his ankle) because he reminded her of… something more, something better. He wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how much she fought him. Amy wouldn't admit it, but she was glad.

iv. He didn't call Amy less when she revealed what her new job was. If anything, he called her more.

v. Amy tells herself she'll be back before she left, because otherwise it would mean he was waiting for her, stuck in Leadworth – because he was a good man and _would_ be waiting for her – and she knows all about that and how is that fair?

vi. Sometimes the Doctor notices that Amy is a bit preoccupied, that her eyes are softer and her breathing slower than what he considers human normal when visiting gorgeous planets or hiding from murderous monsters or holding a malfunctioning plasma coil. And every time he reminds himself that twelve years plus two years is a decent amount of time for a human and that Amy has been through things and then he wonders if there is something she would like to talk about. He never asks because it's always odd timing really and then he always promptly forgets.


	7. Art, K, Eleven, River

**Title**: Art

**Rating**: K+

**Characters**: Eleven, River

**Wordcount**: 60

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Doctor Who_.

**A/N**: for cinderbella333 at LJ.

* * *

><p>"I!" announced the Doctor, using his most boisterous voice and gaudy mannerisms. "Bring you art! Console art!"<p>

River faked awe.

The warship crew still looked decidedly murderous.

The Doctor presented River's scanner, twirled over to the console, placed it on a nice-looking spot. "Art! Now, I'll just connect _this_, press _this_,_ these_ and _that_ and the rest is a surprise!"


	8. Conversating, K, Amy, River

**Title**: Conversating  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 304  
><strong>Characters<strong>: Amy, River  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Doctor Who_.

* * *

><p>A wheezing fire rose from a disproportionate burner, fighting the descending darkness for command over this particular part of the dust-that-was-once-a-city.<p>

"So, how are you dealing?"

"With?"

"All of time and space."

"What can I say? It's brilliant."

"I'd like a bit more substance than that."

Turned to its warmth sat Doctor River Song and Amy Pond, the latter damp from a moment in a portable shower, the former still brushing dust from her clothes and her hair and digging sand out from under her nails.

"It's the only place – yeah, I _know_ – I've felt like I've belonged."

"Don't lose yourself. I've seen it happen. It's not pretty."

"I won't. I tried. Couldn't."

"Hm?"

In retrospect, perhaps River hadn't really needed the Doctor's help this time. It had been a remarkably easy dig. But – in retrospect.

"I changed my name."

"Who hasn't?"

"I thought it worked. Not so sure now."

_x_

From another man, River had been able to coax only one piece of information about Amy; twelve years, and then two more.

"I waited so long. I want to take advantage of it now."

"_Oh_…"

"I mean enjoy it. Obviously. I want to _enjoy _it lots."

_x_

Amy's hair hung dark and damp; the heat from the fire had started to curl a few strands. "I know it has to end sometime. I know that."

"There's something to be said about your own planet and your own time. Trust me."

"I'm going to go home. _Stuff_ to do. This is… just a break."

_x_

"Have you written about me? In that journal?"

"Maybe." River shifted her gaze from the fire to the vast, dark sky. "I definitely will, I can tell you that much."

_x_

"River… Tell me who you are. Why did _you_ change your name?"

"Oh, this is so not the time _or_ the place."


	9. All lies, T, River

**Title**: All lies  
><strong>Rating<strong>: T  
><strong>Character<strong>: River  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 286  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Doctor Who_.  
><strong>AN**: For the spoiler_song ficathon at LJ and the prompt: _'River. Raise a glass and tell some lies.'_

Please note that it mentions alcohol._  
><em>

* * *

><p>"Another?" she says, and adopts a distinguished slur. "Oh, I couldn't possibly – Well, if you insist. We're celebrating, after all. Yes, white. Red gives me horrible headaches." She raises her glass, looks at all of them in turn. "I propose a toast – to the syndicate, to profit. I've never done anything like this before, and it's the most fun I've ever had in so short a time – and I once dated a genetic experiment who only lived for a day. I never in a million years thought I'd outrun those guards! And that alarm, blaring and flashing all over the place, I couldn't concentrate at all. I can't <em>believe <em>I've got a transspectral ioniser in my pocket!"

She chuckles.

"Excuse me if I ramble. My husband says I can't hold my drink – you should see _him_ after a few, terrible dancer… Sorry, it's just – I don't know how to thank you for giving me this chance…" She takes a deep breath and drops the slurring and rambling in favour of _extreme. clarity._ "Though I will tell you this – if you're trying to poison someone, at least make sure you dose the right drink. It's not in mine, but I know exactly who of you has got it. And I won't tell you." She looks at her watch. "I'm waiting for my ride. Ten seconds. As in; ten seconds from now I'll be gone. Plucked right out of this very seat. If you all sit very still, I won't blow up your ship on my way out."

She counts backwards from ten and then she dumps her wine, poison and all, all over the oh-so-nostalgic candelabrum – and then she throws herself out of her chair and runs.


	10. Old bones, K, Amy, Eleven

**Title**: Old bones  
><strong>Rating<strong>: K+  
><strong>CharactersPairing**: Eleven, Amy  
><strong>Wordcount<strong>: 370  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own _Doctor Who_.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: A furniture shop bores Amy.

* * *

><p>How the Doctor imagined she would enjoy visiting a furniture shop, Amy could not even begin to fathom. It was not even the biggest in the Universe (but it was run by giant owls, so it was all right).<p>

The different sections of the shop were brightly colour coordinated and frightfully well-stocked (Amy had no idea how the giant owls moved about without spraining their wings).

They were in the Pink section now: _Armchairs, Chairs, Stools, Etcetera._ The Doctor had commandeered a rocking chair, and was moving it back and forth in a perfectly modulated way with tiny movements of his left foot.

Amy slouched in an armchair (she had tried several in the very close vicinity of the rocking chair; one was too hard, one too soft, one too lumpy, one too ugly – but this one was just right). It was nice being comfortable while bored out of one's mind, she mused. She fixed the Doctor with a dull stare and said with as much spark as she could strike up, "Would you like a blanket? If so, do you prefer thermo or old-fashioned wool?"

"I'm not cold," said the Doctor serenely.

"Great," Amy muttered. "I can feel my youth draining away, thanks for asking." She flipped through the round brochure she had been forced to take upon entering (you don't refuse an insistent owl). It had a very pedagogical layout (understandable for ages three and up, Amy thought) and it, too, was colour coordinated. Every other section looked more appealing than the Pink one right now (even Brown) – but there was one especially enticing. "I though about heading over to the Red section. Do you want to…" She paused and glanced mischievously at the Doctor. "Forget it. You're too old."

"For what?" He paused his rhythmic rocking and leaned forward ever so slightly. The chair creaked. "There's life in the old man still."

"Is there?"

"What's there to do in the Red section?"

"Jumping on beds."

A moment passed, and then the Doctor grinned.

Amy raised a brow. "You're alive for that?"

He got out of the rocking chair with his usual graceful gracelessness, and quite fast, too. "Lead the way, Pond! And don't slouch like that, it's bad for your back."


End file.
